What could it be that motivates a band to reunite after years apart, when one of the main players has died?
Or to put it another way, WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?
It’s not easy to ignore the elephant in the room, after all. The Blockheads without Ian Dury without is like Queen without Freddie Mercury. (Except they weren’t known as ‘Freddie Mercury and Queen’).
I know what you’re thinking, with that attitude, why am I even here? It’s a long story – this is the ‘Class of 77’ tour – headliners From The Jam have canceled, returning on January 4th when the singer’s throat is better. Wandering along Sauchiehall Street late afternoon, I note the famous hoarding, informing me that Eddie and the Hot Rods are now top of the bill. Rolling in later, they’ve clearly been and gone judging by the soundchecking saxes. I ponder the crowd present. Would you want to see the original singer plus hired hands of a singular top 10 hit act, or the remnants of chart regulars whose successes include a number one? Well, maybe it’s just me.
So, to the main event. He does a good impression, I’ll give him that, but that makes the experience even odder. The Laandaan accent is I’m sure genuine – replacement leader Derek Hussey was a friend and Dury’s minder and perhaps a less unlikely replacement than former Head Block Phil Jupitus, I suppose. Arriving onstage, he even hangs his scarf on the mic stand, perhaps as some sort of tribute.
The Blockheads themselves are present and correct, pretty much, certainly sporting more original or long-standing members than most bands on the revival circuit these days, so it’s maybe a surprise that there’s no sense of the crowd-pleasing stuff that a ‘proper’ tribute’ act might deliver – starting quite determinedly with the perfunctory blues of ‘Boys Will Be Boys’, followed by ‘Express Yourself’ – “Blockheads go Motown for five minutes”. Both come from current release Same Horse Different Jockey – a pretty neat summary of the band and what the stand for.
Hussey’s between-songs patter is blokey, though the audience isn’t just comprosed of 50-something guys (no, some have brought their partners). The new material is like Kilburn and the High Roads – Hussey’s been writing with Jankyl – and is competent pub rock, but perhaps lacking that spark that Dury brought to it. Still decent enough given the high bar set, but they’re not going to light up the charts any time soon. ‘Inbetweenies’ is the first of the old crop, while ‘Sorry I Apologise’ is, pretty much, jazz. Sorry, it had to be said.
As the gig warms up, and the back catalogue is finally unlocked, there are nods to the past with a pretty much note-perfect ‘What A Waste’ apart from its “seven piece band”. ‘Rhythm Stick’ is the closer of course, with the stand-in sax guy – Dave Lewis, maybe – also taking his part seriously, playing two horns at once a la Davey Payne, incorporating ‘Jingle Bells’ as they flaunt their credentials as the ideal party band, book now for next Christmas.
And then, the smattering of dying applause picks up again, the house lights dim, and they’re back. The crowd’s reward is another one from the new album and it seems that maybe they are just it in for the laughs rather than the money, though it probably beats the 9-5 for a crew who’ve been doing this for a living for nigh on 40 years. Or, maybe it’s that, without going overboard, that it’s in the blood – and in that case, something that can never die.
As if reading my thoughts, they do ‘Blockheads’ to finish – and in the nicest possibly way, perhaps they’re laying a ghost to rest.
